


Flufftober Day 5: Sparkle

by GuyOfShy



Series: Locked Tomb fics [10]
Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Fluff, Flufftober, Flufftober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26836924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuyOfShy/pseuds/GuyOfShy
Summary: Prompt: SparkleHarrow gets glitter on her hands and wants to die.
Relationships: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus
Series: Locked Tomb fics [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937449
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42
Collections: Flufftober2020





	Flufftober Day 5: Sparkle

‘Unhappy’ did not describe Harrow’s loathing for this occasion deeply enough. No, no; she held raw, excruciating contempt for the ever-amicable Fifth pairing for daring to invite her to their party.

It was loud. It was, with all its decorations scattered over Canaan House’s bleached tile and stone walls, overly bright and colorful. It encouraged social stimulation.

As a meditative exercise, to prevent her face from scowling into itself, Harrow opened her favorite book: the thesaurus in her mind whereupon she scoured every synonym for the word ‘unhappy’ to quell her disdain for what her desolate life had to led to at this moment.

Gideon, sitting next to her, felt oddly paralyzed. She was under orders not to speak, yet literally everyone else in the room save for herself and her necromancer was exchanging conversation. Harrow was not even whispering ill of them to her. One glance over to her was all Gideon needed to know that she was absolutely steaming. Gideon dared to reach for her hand.

“Do not touch me,” hissed Harrow nine layers more harshly than she had intended. Gideon simply raised her hand in surrender and crossed her arms. Harrow made the same movement before stopping and glancing down at her hand. Gideon could _feel_ the ball of distress named Harrowhark tighten to a snapping point next to her, and looked over. Harrow’s hand was covered in some kind of, sparkly shit. Little specks coated her hand like stray grains of sand, but shining a whole spectrum of vivid, saturated colors.

Harrow mouthed carefully to Gideon, her jaw rigid and stuck in a fit of rage: _What. Is. This?_

Gideon leaned over to whisper. “Looks like the stuff that the envelope and invitation were decorated in.”

Harrow swept it off of her, but it stuck still to her skin, not only on her one hand but now shared with the other. She shook her hands violently in the air; nothing flew away like the cloud of color she had expected.

Harrow just stared at her hands, dreaming a frenzied fantasy of lopping them off. She swung her head to Gideon as if expecting a solution from her. Gideon just shrugged her shoulders - what the fuck was she supposed to do? Wipe it all off of Harrow’s hands on onto hers? - and Harrow’s eyes exploded open.

She had exhausted her thesaurus, and was left with only an unfathomably deep emptiness that left her frustrated for feeling, and the knowledge that Gideon was having the time of her life watching her struggle.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I could have done something with some sparkling chandeliers and them in dresses and having a very intimate dance and being all lovey dovey but I didn’t feel like it okay


End file.
